


Queen West at Night

by Tasyfa



Series: Spinning Circle of Flames [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Gay Character, Guerin is a little shit, M/M, alexmanesweek2019, do not copy to other sites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-26 00:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18712513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasyfa/pseuds/Tasyfa
Summary: Michael is a grad student. Alex is a musician. It's New Music Tuesday at Michael's favourite bar, and guess who's playing?





	1. Across the Room

**Author's Note:**

> Alex Manes Appreciation Week - Day Two  
> Prompt: Alternate Universe (AU)
> 
> I have never written a total AU before! It's so weird! So AU it takes place in Toronto, Canada, because I figured I'd send Michael to my alma mater. 
> 
> The rating is for chapter two. Patience. ;+D  
> ~Tas

* * * * *

Michael slips into the Horseshoe Tavern, heading straight for the back room. It's New Music Tuesday so he doesn't need a ticket, just a few dollars and a place to perch.

He hadn't planned on ending the night here, but after a long fucking day grading papers and holding office hours for undergrads while also trying to get some work done on his own thesis, he desperately needs to unwind. 

And that means a cold pint and live music at the Shoe. 

"Hey, Maria!" he shouts at the pretty bartender, giving a wave and a grin when she turns to look. Her face lights up and when she's finished with her current customer, she navigates down to the end of the bar where Michael stands, leaning over to give him a hug. 

"Hey, stranger! I was starting to wonder if you didn't love me anymore!" 

"How could I not love you? You know you're my favourite Canadian sister-in-law." He grins at her laugh. 

"Yes, because your other sister-in-law is American. What’s your poison tonight? Lager on tap?" 

"Please, yeah. No Iz? She usually likes the new music nights." 

Maria made a face. "There was a problem with the flowers for Saturday's wedding." 

"Oh, so she's busy making the florist cry." If Michael ever gets married, he's eloping. Having a sister with a successful wedding planning business means he never, ever wants to have to be 'the groom' anywhere in her vicinity. 

Maria sets the full glass in front of him, golden and rich with foam. He takes a long, grateful swallow, and then chokes and coughs when she replies, "Yep. And I know exactly what kind of mood that's gonna put her in, so I already set out the harness and lube, and I am so looking forward to being fucked into oblivion when I go home tonight." 

"You've been married for like three years now. For fuck's sake, stop telling me about your sex life already," he pleads. Not for the first time. 

She shrugs, clearly unrepentant. "I'll talk about anything I want to. But, the pint is on the house. Since I did make you spit some of it out."

"Gee, thanks," he grumbles. Truth be told, while Michael would prefer to skip the level of detail Maria tends to impart, he's thrilled she and Isobel are so happy. He never would have guessed that dragging his sister to his favourite watering hole on her first visit to his university town would result in her marrying and settling down in Toronto. Life is weird sometimes. 

He hears crackling sounds and looks at the stage, watching a guy in sinfully tight black jeans set up equipment. Amp, mic, chair; a beautiful guitar. 

It's got nothing on the guy, though: he is stunning. Cheekbones that could cut your palms, messy spiky hair that looks like he just rolled out of an occupied bed, and that mouth. Michael doesn't even have words for that mouth. "Wow," he mumbles to himself. 

And to Maria, apparently, because she laughs. "Alex Manes. Singer/songwriter with an emo feel, maybe a little punk. His voice is almost as gorgeous as he is." She leans close enough to speak into his ear. "Rumour has it, he's single and he plays for your team." 

Michael clears his throat. "Good to know." 

"I thought so." Maria pats his shoulder. "I gotta get back to work, so I'll see you when I see you, yeah?" 

"Yeah," he answers, distracted, and hears her laugh again, the sound fading as she moves away. 

Michael moves through the crowd, angling towards the raised stage. There's an empty chair between the second and third tables from the front and he checks with the table occupants as to its status then sinks down when they indicate it's available, claiming the seat. 

He has a clear sightline to the stage and the devastatingly beautiful man taking his own seat, setting the guitar against his thigh and adjusting the mic to the perfect position for those perfect lips. Michael zeroes in on the flash of pink tongue running over them, sparking an instant response in his body. 

It takes him by surprise; he can't remember the last time he was so strongly attracted to someone. Then he watches those lips part and the man begins to talk, and Michael knows he's a goner. If he sings like he speaks, this guy is going to hit pretty much every button Michael has. 

"Hey there, everyone, and welcome to New Music Tuesday at the legendary Horseshoe Tavern. I'm Alex Manes. Some of you may have caught my set here last month; I've been reliably informed the Shoe has a lot of regulars," he gestures as if he were clinking glasses with someone in a toast, his mischievous smile accompanied by expressive eyebrows. "If that's the case, thanks for your continued support." 

The smile deepens to a full-blown smirk. "If this is your first time with me, I'll start gently, I promise." His gaze sweeps the room and Michael feels a jolt as their eyes meet. This guy - Alex - is dangerous to his equilibrium. 

Introduction complete, Alex begins to strum the guitar, picking out a delicate melody. A few bars in, he lifts his voice. It's sultry and smooth with a raspy edge, the perfect amount of roughness to dirty up the ethereal quality so it's pure sex. 

Oh, Michael is going to enjoy this. 

 

 

[end chapter one]


	2. Around the Corner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is now going to be a three chapter adventure, apparently... 
> 
> Also, meant to mention, the Horseshoe Tavern is a real bar, and genuinely a great place for live music, should you happen to find yourself in Toronto.   
> ~Tas

* * * * *

Approaching the space off to the side of the stage where the artists usually hang out for a while post show, Michael keeps his eyes on the dark-haired beauty in all black. Alex smiles and laughs with people as he shakes hands and poses for selfies.

Michael hangs back some, watching Alex work the crowd. He isn't coy about it and Alex has flicked more than a few curious glances his way, letting Michael know his interest has been noticed. It's still giving him an electric shock when their eyes meet and he wonders if Alex feels it, too. 

When there's no longer a crush of people, just a few stragglers, Michael saunters over and greets the musician with a compliment. 

"Killer set. Now I wish I'd caught you last month, but my first time was as enjoyable as promised." He lets a soft twang flavour his drawl, marking him as from elsewhere, something he's learned this city finds appealing. 

The corners of Alex's eyes crinkle as he laughs. "Glad to hear it. I'm playing again next month and I should have CDs available then. Putting the finishing touches on my first album over the next week or so." 

"Congratulations. I look forward to giving you more of my money," Michael smirks and both men laugh. 

The next look Michael gets is quizzical and calculating. "I noticed you earlier, with the bartender. Friend of yours?" 

God bless Maria. That gives Michael the perfect opening, and he thinks better of Alex for straight up asking. "Family, actually. Married to my sister. I introduced them." 

"That's sweet," Alex smiles, the hint of wariness dissipating as he relaxes. Talking about getting Isobel and Maria together is a good way to indicate he's at least an ally, and it's proven particularly useful in venues like the Shoe, with a really mixed crowd. It puts the other guy at ease if he's also LGBTQ+, and it weeds out the dudes who can't understand why they aren't entitled to Maria's or Isobel's attention. 

This is why Michael puts up with the TMI. Invisible wingladies get a pass. 

"So, would you be interested in getting a drink? Somewhere quieter, maybe?" Michael is a firm believer in the straightforward approach, once potential has been established. 

Alex raises his eyebrows, dark eyes twinkling in amusement. "Is that what you'd be saying if I didn't have a guitar?" 

A slow, filthy smirk spreads across Michael's face and he leans close to murmur, "Nah. If you didn't have the guitar, I'd've already asked you back to my place." 

He can see the words have an effect, and the look Alex gives him sets Michael's heart racing. "Well then. That sounds like a nice, quiet spot to have a drink." Alex tilts his head, adding, "You close by?" 

"Walking distance." He hopes he remembered to buy beer. 

"Let me get my jacket and you can lead the way." 

They end up leaving by the back door, the typical exit for the artists but not one Michael's used before. By the time he gets himself oriented and they're back on Queen West, he's having a hard time standing up straight because he's laughing so much, and Alex isn't in much better shape. 

"I'm telling you, that is why Max insists on me driving any time we're in a car together. You end up miles from nowhere in the wrong fucking direction _once_ , and your big brother never forgives you for it. He has to be the navigator." 

"Your brother sounds hilarious. Is he in Toronto, too?" 

"No, actually he's still back in New Mexico. That's where I'm from," Michael's smile is bright as they stroll down the street talking. 

"Ah, so that's where the hint of Southern came from," Alex returns the smile, and Michael is caught again by the way his eyes all but glow when he's grinning. 

"It surely is," Michael exaggerates the drawl to a ridiculous degree and they're back to laughing. A few minutes later, he observes, "You don't sound entirely local, either." 

"I'm not," Alex admits easily. "I've only been here a few months. Grew up on the east coast, Nova Scotia." 

"Lucky man, by the sea. You miss it? There's definitely things I miss about New Mexico, but I love it here." 

"Sometimes, yeah. Mostly the ocean. I do not miss living in a small town," he's emphatic about it and Michael agrees a million percent. 

"I hear you there, man. I don't miss that at all." He takes the corner and leads Alex down another half a city block, then digs his keys out before he goes the few feet around the side of the building, to the door that leads to his apartment upstairs. "Here's me." 

"You live above a bridal shop?" Alex isn't the first person to be confused by that and Michael chuckles as he unlocks the door and ushers Alex inside. 

"I do," he laughs at the groan that gets him. "This is the garment district. It's not far from the nightlife on Queen West, obviously, but the actual neighbours here are quiet and most of the shops close by nine, so it's great that way." 

He unlocks the door at the top of the stairs and swings it wide open. "And then there's this." 

"Wow," Alex breathes, entering the spacious great room. Michael watches him check it out. The reaction to his place never gets old but he's getting an extra kick out of Alex's, and offers him a wide grin when he turns back to ask, "How did you find this?" 

"The TL;DR version is, nepotism, for the finding and for the affording." Michael knows damn well how lucky he is. 

Alex nods with an envious sigh. "Good old nepotism. I think you could fit my studio apartment in here three times over, if not more." 

"May I take your jacket? The guitar can go in the corner by the shoes. It'll stay upright there," Michael gestures to the corner in question. When Alex has his padded guitar bag settled to his liking, Michael motions for him to face away from him and he carefully slides the studded black leather from broad shoulders, down firm, rounded arms, and finally over elegant hands tipped with chipped black nail polish. He hangs it up and compliments, "Great jacket. The leather is top quality." 

"It was a lucky find, yeah. I'm going to be sad when it gets too cold and I have to wear a winter coat," Alex smiles, sounding the slightest bit breathless. Michael hopes that isn't wishful thinking on his part. 

"Well, why don't you have a seat and I'll get you that drink?" Michael indicates the wide, low couch, designed for lounging. "I know I have rye and tequila, and I should have beer but I'll check. Oh, plus coffee, tea, apple juice, if you prefer non-alcoholic." 

"Beer if you have it, rye on the rocks if you don't, please." 

Thank fuck, he did remember to buy beer and he twists two open, bringing them over. Alex has taken a seat on the arm chair rather than the couch, which surprises Michael but he rolls with it, setting one bottle on a coaster on the end table beside Alex, and keeping hold of the other as he lands on the couch in a lazy sprawl. 

"Don’t hear many Americans call it rye instead of whiskey," Alex observes. "But then, you're related to a bartender." 

Michael chuckles. "Oh, yeah, I was educated. Maria kind of took me under her wing when I first moved here. I went to the Shoe because I'd heard it was good for live music. Tried to hit on the bartender. Ended up basically getting patted on the head and acquired another sister instead." 

Alex laughs. "You don't seem to be complaining." Michael can see a speculative cast to his gaze after he's mentioned making a move on Maria, and figures he'll clear that up now. 

"Not in the slightest. I love both my siblings' wives. Means Max and I are outnumbered now, but," he shrugs. "His orientation is pretty much Liz. She probably could have been a tree and he would have married her. Me, I'm bi." 

"I won't tell her you called her a tree," Alex winks and Michael has to laugh. Then he notices the devilish smile playing about those lips. He takes a hasty swig of beer to soothe the dryness in his throat. 

"So, let me see if I've got it all, hm? You have two older siblings, twins. Max is married to Liz and they live on a ranch in New Mexico. Isobel is married to Maria and they live in Toronto. And you are a student at the University of Toronto and you live in this kickass apartment." 

"Grad student," Michael corrects automatically. 

"Right, sorry, grad student." That smirk settles in and Michael isn't sure if he's nervous or aroused by the look Alex gives him, one eyebrow lifted. "Were you planning on telling me your name at some point? Or just your life story?" 

"What?" The question catches him totally off guard. Michael thinks back over them talking in the Shoe and realises Alex is right: he didn't introduce himself. He laughs, "Well shit, let me rectify that." 

He rises to his feet and stands in front of Alex, offering his hand. "Hi, I'm Michael Evans." 

"Nice to meet you." Alex's smirk deepens as he shakes hands. 

When Alex lets go, Michael doesn't. Instead, he raises Alex's hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it, gaze trained on Alex. "I wanted to do that at the club. It distracted me so much I forgot my own name." 

"Is that so?" His voice is low, amused, and his eyes glitter with something that makes Michael's breath catch. 

"Yeah." Gently, he rotates Alex's wrist and presses another kiss into his palm, letting his tongue trace over the lines etched there. Alex is getting easier to read and Michael knows for sure now the heat pooling in between them is not his imagination. 

Alex chuckles, "I think this is the longest you've been quiet since I met you. The first time." 

Michael's response is a cheeky grin. "There are ways to get me to shut up." 

"Oh?" One syllable with a firm unspoken nudge to elaborate. 

"Uh-huh. All you really need to do is put your tongue or your dick in my mouth. Can't promise I'll be _quiet_ , but I won't be talking."

Both eyebrows arch up and Michael simply shrugs. It is the truth, after all. 

"You're an unusual person, Michael Evans," his tone is teasing but pleased. 

"So I'm told." It's pretty much been a constant in his life, in fact. Along with, he talks too much, he's too loud, why can't he sit still for five minutes....

"I like it." 

"Good." Michael punctuates the comment by taking two of Alex's fingers in his mouth and sucking lightly. He watches Alex lick his lips, eyes on what Michael's doing. 

"You know," he says conversationally, "I need both hands to undo these jeans." 

Michael doesn't have to be told twice. He gives a final kiss to Alex's hand and lets go. "Far be it from me to prevent you doing that." 

He waits for Alex to scoot forward on the chair, ass at the edge while he leans back enough to get his zipper open. Then Michael drops, kneeling between Alex's feet. He wraps his hands around Alex's knees and runs his palms down his calves. 

Alex tenses and Michael freezes in response. He understands immediately what the problem is, from the knobbly feel underneath the denim of what should be Alex's right leg, and isn't - or at least, it isn't a flesh and blood lower leg. 

The last thing Michael wants is for Alex to panic, so he doesn't move at all, keeping his hands on Alex's legs as he smiles. "Vacuum seal, right? I noticed you raising your foot earlier. And the chair instead of the low couch makes sense now." 

"How do you know that?" Alex sounds wary and Michael can't blame him.

"Apparently I missed more than my name out of the story. My grad studies are at the Institute of Biomaterials and Biomedical Engineering, and my research involves biomedical devices," he explains, trying for a calming tone and slowing his speech deliberately. Michael knows he's a motormouth. "Prosthetic hands, specifically. Fingers are a lot more interesting than toes, no offence." He squeezes Alex's left leg with a smile. 

The laugh he gets is soft, but real. "Yeah, fingers are way more useful." Alex takes a deep breath. "Sorry. I wasn't hiding it, just..." he trails off, uncertain. 

"I get it," Michael tells him, and he does. "I've met a lot of amputees, from war veterans, to those affected by accident or illness, or by birth defect. Everybody deals with it their own way."

Alex nods, "So what you're saying is, it doesn't bother you." 

"Pretty much," Michael agrees. "Like, let me put it like this: feet are a hard no from me. I don't care if you have five, ten, or zero toes, I'm not interested." He gives an over-the-top dramatic shudder, grinning when Alex chuckles. "It's the body parts under that there zipper that I was hoping to get acquainted with, not what is or isn't in your pant legs." 

Seeming to take him at his word, Alex sits upright and beckons, "Come here for a kiss first." 

"Gladly," he smiles, lifting up on his knees to bring him in range and letting Alex close the last few inches, bringing their mouths together with an unexpected gentleness. 

Michael sighs as he feels Alex stroke thumbs across his jaw, musician's hands sliding into his hair to hold him where Alex wants him. Only then does Alex deepen the kiss, licking into Michael's mouth. He opens easily - eagerly - granting Alex all the access he might want. 

It could be minutes or hours later when they part, Michael's head spinning and his body aching sweetly. "Wow." 

"Yeah," Alex sounds equally stunned. 

"I think I could just do that all night and call it a spectacular evening." 

"Changed your mind about wanting in my pants?" It isn't a serious question, not with that arch tone, and Michael laughs. 

"Hell no. Just considering all the fantastic options." 

Alex draws him into another kiss, more insistent this time, demanding a response. Michael gives it to him, melting against his black-clad body. 

When they break again, both men are breathing heavily. Alex runs a fingertip over Michael's lips. "You can have more kisses after I come." 

"Deal," he agrees, sitting back on his heels. Michael slides his hands up the insides of Alex's thighs and pulls at the thin layer of black fabric exposed by the open zipper. He makes a satisfied sound when he gets to skin, hard and waiting for him. "Oh, yeah." 

Alex chuckles. "You going to talk, or suck?" 

Michael grins up at him. "Just taking a moment to appreciate beauty." 

It makes Alex laugh, full-on, and Michael chases the thrill of accomplishment by bending to close his lips around the head of Alex's cock and hold there, sucking lightly and learning his taste. 

He's rewarded with a soft groan as Alex relaxes in the chair. Good, that's exactly what Michael wants after getting Alex all tense about his leg. He wants to smooth that over and make the other man feel as gorgeous as Michael thinks he is. 

Michael sets to work of the most enjoyable kind, lavishing wet attention with hands, lips, tongue, even a careful scrape of teeth that has Alex's fingers tangling in his hair and more breathy, beautiful moans. He doesn't need to stop to ask if he should take it all the way; Alex was clear about what he wanted and Michael has a goal in sight. 

He loses time on his knees, hyperfocused on Alex's pleasure, the pulse of heated skin in his mouth, the quiet sounds and restless hands drifting over him. There's only one thing missing for this to fit Michael's idea of perfect and then he has it in the stutter of Alex's hips, the rough edge to his cursing. The warm cascade in Michael's throat. 

He gentles his suction, his touch, but he doesn't stop until Alex pulls at him. Then Michael withdraws slowly, pressing a kiss to softened skin before he straightens. He licks his lips, looking up at Alex, and smirks, "Delicious." 

Alex laughs, "No argument here." He _looks_ delicious, flushed and dreamy-eyed. 

"Good," he keeps his hands on Alex's thighs and lifts up off his heels, wanting the kisses he was promised. 

Smiling, Alex tugs him forward to drape over him, bringing Michael's mouth to his where he's lounging back in the chair. Michael slips his hands round to the small of his back, settling against Alex. 

He isn't expecting the light caress to his cheek, guitar calloused fingertips tracing the bones then sliding into Michael's hair and dragging him into a languid kiss. 

It's good, the soft sweetness of Alex's lips and the feel of his warm body. Michael wasn't kidding before when he said he'd be happy to do this all night. 

"Michael." He feels the murmur against his lips and makes an inquisitive sound in response, trying to re-engage Alex's mouth, to no avail as Alex chuckles, "Michael. I think we should move this to the bedroom, hm?"

"Yeah, good idea. Except for the part where I have to stop kissing you if I'm gonna move," he mock complains.

"Well, you can start up again once you're naked and horizontal." 

Michael gives him a final kiss and pulls back with a sigh. "When you put it like that..." 

"I thought you might see it my way." 

 

 

[end chapter two]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr if you'd like; same username. My ask box is open! 
> 
> And yes, same Tasyfa as in the OG Roswell fandom once upon a time.   
> ~Tas


	3. The Sh Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder where we left off: Alex sat in an armchair, Michael kneeling on the floor between his legs, having just agreed the bedroom would be a good idea. 
> 
> Light D/s and pure filth. Enjoy!   
> ~Tas

* * * * *

Michael pushes to his feet and backs off, picking up his beer for a swig while Alex tucks himself into his jeans. He drawls, "You aren't doing those back up, now, are you?"

"I'd just prefer not to lose any more body parts while I'm walking. These are stupidly tight," Alex admits with a laugh. 

"Want some help? If I take 'em off you here, you won't be in any danger," Michael offers. He waggles his eyebrows and puts his beer down, grabbing the bottom edge of his T-shirt and whipping it off, dropping it on the couch. "I'll even go first." 

"Oh, is it my turn to be the audience? Because I'm all for that."

Michael laughs. "Don’t expect stripper quality dancing or anything." His hands go to his belt buckle, undoing the workings hidden behind the big chunk of turquoise holding the leather strapping in its place around his hips. 

"That is impressive, the buckle. I assume you brought that north with you?" Alex's gaze follows each movement and Michael doesn't hide the smugness in his smile. 

"I did, yeah. High school graduation present from the parents. The gemstone is genuine, and it's hand tooled leather, so I take care of it." Like he does now, slipping the strapping through the belt loops of his jeans and gently depositing the belt on the couch, buckle first, before his fingers pop open the button on his fly. 

"It's nice. What’s under it is nicer." 

"You're only saying that because I'm being a tease," Michael grins. 

"I'm not sure how offering to go first is..." the sentence trails off as Michael hooks his thumbs over the waistbands of both jeans and boxers and divests himself of every last stitch of clothing in about two minutes flat. As Michael stands up straight, he hears Alex clear his throat and comment, "You are not shy at all." 

"Dude, seriously. Have I said or done anything in the short time you've known me to imply I might be shy?" Michael can't help but laugh as he moves closer. "Not shy; never been shy. My 'sh' word is shameless." 

"So I see." Alex runs his palm over Michael's hip once he's in reach. "It's a good way to be." 

He enjoys the touch and the admiring look but neither is why Michael's here at the moment. He drops back down to the floor, kneeling up so he's nearly eye level with Alex. "It works for me, yeah, but it's hardly the only good way to be." 

"True enough," Alex agrees. It lacks the conviction his voice has carried thus far, and Michael's pretty sure he knows why. 

"Hey, Alex, listen, man. If you want to stay right here like this and just make out, that's cool with me. Hell, if you feel the need to leave, I'm not going to stop you. Although that would be my dead last choice of the available options and I would definitely want to give you my number first," Michael speaks softly, if at his usual mile a minute speed. 

"Let's see, hm?" Alex sidesteps answering and pulls Michael in for a kiss. He goes willingly, relaxing against Alex, enjoying the feel of wandering hands over his bare skin, the light scratch of denim along the outside of his thighs. 

He feels Alex wriggle, and the next thing Michael knows, he's got an unfamiliar cell phone in his hand. He breaks away, giving the phone a confused look that makes Alex laugh. 

"Your number. My jeans. Your bed. In that order." 

Michael navigates to the contacts, adds his details, sends himself a text consisting of, 'Alex Manes', and returns the phone with a smirk. "I guess that's what's called a command decision, huh?" He moves directly to the next item on the list, grasping the denim covering Alex's hips. "Lift up so I can work these off." 

Alex does, and he was right about how tight they are - Michael ends up having to peel the jeans off, turning them inside out in the process, and landing on his bare ass on the floor when they finally come loose all at once. 

"Graceful," Alex grins at him. 

"Just call me Baryshnikov," Michael quips, smiling. He turns the jeans right side out and folds them neatly. "Christ Almighty, man, it's a good thing I'm not trying to get pregnant." 

Alex starts to laugh at that and Michael takes advantage of the distraction to finish undressing him, clothes in a tidy pile on the coffee table. He stands up far more smoothly than he sat down and offers Alex an outstretched hand. "My bed awaits, kind sir." 

Accepting the hand, Alex rises to his feet and it is graceful, in a way Michael can never manage. The quick glance Michael had at the prosthetic leg and the deliberate quality to Alex's movements reinforce Michael's guess that Alex is current or recently ex-military, but he isn't going to ask. Alex can share what he wants, when he wants. 

He is well aware most peiople don't spill their thoughts in a constant gushing fountain like he does. 

Michael keeps hold of Alex and leads him down the hall. "Guest room at the far end, bathroom is there," he points at the ajar door, "and my bedroom is here." Opening his door, he ushers Alex through and instead of the switch for the overhead light, Michael reaches for the corded switch hanging in the corner behind the door. 

The room illuminates at ceiling level in a soft glow. White electrical cabling nestles in the groove where wall meets ceiling, the full 360 degrees of the room, and white vertical icicle lights of varying lengths drip down the walls. 

"I would not have pegged you for a faerie lights kind of guy," Alex admits, angling to take it all in, "but it's actually pretty cool." 

"I happen to fucking love faerie lights. And getting pegged. So I regret to inform you, you are completely wrong on that one," Michael grins. "The lights started as a music thing, though." 

"How's that?" Alex furrows his brow. 

"It's a ritual of sorts. When I have new music by an artist I like, I put the full album on my iPod, get the good headphones out, turn these lights on, and," he pauses to flop backwards onto the bed, dead centre of the mattress with his arms and legs wide. "Then I close my eyes and lie here, just listening, for the first run-through." He shuts his eyes but keeps talking, "I don't look at the track listing or any notes beforehand, artist's or otherwise. It's pure immersion." 

Michael feels the surface of the mattress shift and his lips curve, knowing Alex is joining him. He keeps his eyes closed as Alex settles over him, enjoying the warm slide of skin on skin, and tips his chin up, lips parting in a silent request. 

Warm breath ghosts over his mouth with a chuckle and then Alex kisses him. It's everything he promised and more and Michael sinks into the feeling, his arms coming up to wrap around Alex, holding him somewhere he clearly wants to be. 

"You were right," Alex murmurs during a mutual pause for air. "I could do this all night with you." 

"I'm totally up for that."

"I can tell." He punctuates the comment by sliding a hand between Michael's legs to cup his balls.

It's an unexpected move, given the words, and Michael lets out a breathless laugh. "I take it back. I'm not the tease in this bed." 

"Oh, Michael," the answering laugh makes him shiver, shimmering between open-mouthed kisses to his throat. "You really shouldn't issue challenges like that unless you're willing to back them up." 

He didn't think of it as a challenge, but if Alex wants to take it that way... "Who says I'm not?" 

His eyelids flutter open at the indecent noise Alex makes. The jolt that travels through his body when their eyes meet is much stronger at a distance of only a few inches than it was earlier at the club, although Michael concedes the whole, naked together with hands in intimate places probably amplifies the feeling like a Marshall. 

The other thing making his stomach swoop and his cheeks flush is Alex's expression. There's a level of hunger there Michael's never seen directed at him before and he feels exposed, moreso than mere nudity inspires. 

If not for the fact that he feels perfectly safe with Alex, Michael might be apprehensive about how he suddenly has the sense he's been promoted to prey. 

"Do you need to be anywhere early tomorrow?" Alex asks, and Michael can't help swallowing against a dry throat, his eyes wide. 

"Um, no. Tomorrow is Wednesday, right? Just me in the lab, whenever I get there, and a stack of papers to grade. Today was my heavy student day. That's," he has to swallow again, "that's why I went to the Shoe tonight, to unwind." 

"I'll unwind you," Alex smiles, slow and sly, and Michael can't breathe for the heated promise in his low voice. 

He tries for flippancy. "Let the games begin." 

"Mm, no. No games," Alex kisses him softly. "Just some specialised attention to make you feel good," 

"Attention doesn't usually make me feel like someone's next meal," Michael confesses with a little laugh. 

"Too much?" Dark eyes search his and Michael shakes his head. 

"No. It's... Intense, but I like it." 

"Good." More soft kisses settle Michael further. "Remember, you can say no at any time, okay? I'll stop and talk to you." 

"Sounds good," Michael agrees. He doesn't know why the bout of nerves off the back of a man just looking at him, but it's gone now, burned away by the way Alex touches him and his confidence. 

The next kiss is anything but soft, the press of Alex's tongue insistent and Michael opens for him, releasing a moan as the hand on his balls begins a delicate caress. Such a barely there touch shouldn't be so damn hot but it's the contrast, he thinks, participating in the slide of mouth against mouth but simply receiving the brush of Alex's fingers on sensitive skin. 

And then those fingers move to grip Michael's hip while Alex trails kisses over his jaw and down, nuzzling his throat, gentle again until he isn't: teeth closing on the cord of muscle sloping from neck to shoulder. Michael jerks, startled, and Alex bites down harder, keeping him in place. 

The sweep of tongue soothes the bite mark, and Alex glides his hand over Michael's abdomen. He tugs lightly at the hair there, following the path up the centre of his chest. Sharp almost prickles amidst the sensation of being petted. 

"Do you play drums, too?" the question falls out without any help from Michael. 

"Drums? I can manage basics but not really otherwise. Why?" Alex sounds amused. 

Michael waves his free hand in a weird, airy shrug. "Hard soft fast slow. Percussive." 

"Never thought of it like that but yeah, it's not a bad description," he agrees, and fastens his mouth to a spot just above Michael's nipple, sucking hard. 

"Percussive," Michael repeats, for no reason other than it sounds cool. 

He can feel Alex laugh against his chest and Michael grins. He meets Alex's mouth when he moves up for a kiss, sighing into it. 

"So, Mr. Percussive, where do you keep your lube?" 

It takes Michael a minute to understand the question and then he points at the night table. "In there, condoms too. Do you want me to ---"

"I got it," Alex pushes down on his chest, preventing Michael from moving. He slides off the bed and opens the drawer. Michael isn't paying attention, too busy admiring the view. Damn, those jeans did not lie. 

"You've got a whole little playground in here. Nice," he compliments, and Michael remembers he moved all the sex toys into that drawer the last time he got talked into going through his closet, because neither he nor Isobel needs her to see his stash. 

"Yep," he simply agrees. It is a nice little collection, he likes toys, and even if he didn't mean to show them to Alex, Michael isn't embarrassed. 

Alex picks out the two items he's after and shuts the drawer. He turns to look at Michael and his face is doing that thing again that makes Michael fight for breath. "No toys tonight. I do want you to turn over." 

"Turn over?" Michael repeats, flushing when Alex arches one eyebrow. "Um, yeah, turning over." He follows up the statement with action, settling onto his stomach. 

"Good." It's a single, simple word but it feels important, in a way Michael can't explain. Maybe it'll make more sense tomorrow, when his brain is back online. 

The mattress shifts and Alex drapes over him, pressing him down. Michael lets out a soft gasp and his hips move of their own accord, friction between bedspread and skin sparking pleasure. 

Then Alex pulls away and tugs at Michael's hip. "Lift up for me." 

Michael does, confused until he relaxes over the pillows placed under him and realises his dick is swinging in the breeze. He sighs. "Of course." 

"Comfy?" Alex checks, and Michael rolls his eyes where it can't be seen. 

"More or less."

"There's another option, if you're interested." 

"Sure, let's try it." The pillows are okay but he's curious now. 

Alex guides one of Michael's legs forward, knee bending to tuck underneath his torso. The other leg is next. Then Alex's hands cup his hips and urge them up, until Michael's basically on hands and knees except it's more like nose and knees, with his face against the mattress still and his ass raised high. "Hoo boy." 

"Better? Or too much?" Difficult to tell with a warm palm on each ass cheek. 

"It's... Very open. Um," he tries to formulate an opinion. "Better, I think." 

"Yeah?" And now a thumb drags along the crease of his ass and Michael whimpers. 

"Yeah, yes, okay, that's better," he says in a rush, a peeved edge to his voice. 

"Honesty in all things," Alex speaks in a mild tone, thumb continuing its lazy strokes. 

"Fuck you." He draws a sharp breath, surprised by his own outburst, and surprised even further by the satisfied laugh which is Alex's response. 

"We definitely don't need these, then." 

The pillows are flung off the bed and Michael would provide some witty comeback except Alex is replacing the thumb with his mouth and there goes any hope of coherent speech. "Oh, fuck." 

Laughing adds vibration and that simply is not fair. Neither is the way Alex licks, attentive and thorough, the wet wriggle of his tongue pressing inside and withdrawing again in shallow regular thrusts. 

"Your laugh is evil," Michael accuses. It seems like a sensible thing to say and it's certainly true. 

He doesn't get a verbal response; well, fair enough. Instead there's a sharp pinch to his nipple and Michael yelps. The fingers at his chest gentle, lightly rolling the stiffened flesh, and he moans. "Like that," he confirms. 

The softer touch continues. Michael breathes in staccato gasps, forearms braced on the bed to help him push back with his hips. Not that Alex is letting him move much. He's doing all the fucking moving with that stupidly flexible tongue. 

The incessant stimulation is driving him nuts. Broken curses mix with Alex's name, and the occasional equation as Michael starts to get fogged in. It feels like his brain is leaking, melting into the shimmer of his faerie lights through damp eyes. 

It's now that Michael starts to beg. He's forgotten the talk of a challenge, fixating on the way Alex looked at him before he turned over, the smile that accompanied the promise to unwind Michael. Either one is enough to make his cock twitch; taken together, they unleash a flood of pleading. 

"Fuck, Alex, please, I ne---need, I, oh fuck. Please. _Please_ , fuck," he isn't even sure what he's begging for, exactly. Need shivers through his body in a crescendo that reaches frantic even as Michael hears a familiar ripping sound and then there's a shock of cold air on wet skin as Alex's mouth withdraws completely. 

Michael doesn't have a chance to miss it, though, as he feels solid pressure against his hole, slick and hard, and Alex doesn't stop him pushing back now, both of them groaning as Michael takes it all at once. 

"Still with me?" Alex checks, low and raspy, and Michael whines. 

"Go." 

That devilish, dirty laugh drifts over Michael again but he doesn't care as Alex takes him at his word, gripping his hips tight enough to bruise and beginning to fuck him, rocking Michael forward with each thrust. 

It's exactly what he needs, what his body was screaming for, and Michael tries to say thank you in between his moans. He does get words out. He doesn't know what words, but whatever they were, they're out there now and as long as Alex doesn't stop fucking him, Michael really doesn't give a shit what he's babbling. 

"Get your hand on your cock," Alex commands and yes, that's a stellar idea. Michael thinks he says so but either way, he does what he's told and wraps his fingers around his erection, hissing in pleasure as he starts to stroke. 

That seems to be what Alex is waiting for and he tells Michael, "I want you to jerk yourself off, now, as fast as you can." 

He's clear and precise, and it's what Michael wants too. Michael picks up the pace, hardly noticing the sounds or stray words streaming from his mouth as he works his cock, wrist twisting in a familiar motion, following the rhythm set by the snap of Alex's hips against his ass. 

And then he's there, tumbling into ecstasy, listening to Alex's ragged moans and feeling the momentary falter, that jagged break in Alex's smooth movements that signals his release. 

Michael drops his hand when he's done. Alex has already stilled, buried inside Michael and breathing heavily. So is he. Lots of inhaling and exhaling all over the place. 

"Stay right where you are," Alex says when he pulls out, and Michael laughs because where the hell is he going to go? It's his fucking apartment. 

But he stays put, ass in the air, and in a couple minutes Alex is cleaning him up. Then Michael pushes up onto his hands and crawls up the bed to climb under the covers. 

He stretches out, not even noticing the lack of pillow until Alex slips one under his head. The other goes in the space beside his, and Alex slides across the sheets to settle close, reaching to cup Michael's cheek. "How's it going?" 

"Awesome," Michael sighs, smiling when Alex does. "Kinda underwater feeling, though. It's weird." 

He can see that surprises Alex but in a good way. "I gather it isn't familiar to you, the underwater feeling?" 

"No. Not like this. S'different.   
Good. Feels nice." Wow, where has his vocabulary fucked off to? 

"Well, fuck," Alex laughs softly. "You're a bit of buried treasure, you are." 

"I am?" Michael likes the idea. 

"You sure are." Leaning in, Alex presses a light kiss to his lips. "I'll explain about your headspace in the morning." 

"Gonna stay?" 

"Oh, yeah. I would have anyway, but it would be irresponsible not to stay now." 

"F'you say so." Perhaps that would make more sense in the morning, too. Michael smiles, gaze tracing Alex's face like he's trying to memorise it. "D'ya mind if I stare at you until I'm asleep?" 

Alex raises his eyebrows. "Why?" 

"You're just so fucking beautiful." 

His smile is amused, and, Michael hopes, flattered. "When you put it like that, how could I say no?" 

Michael sighs happily, and he's about to ask another question when Alex places a finger against his lips. "Sh, Michael. Sleep now." 

And Michael does. 

 

 

[Et fini]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr if you'd like; same username. My ask box is open! 
> 
> And yes, same Tasyfa as in the OG Roswell fandom once upon a time.   
> ~Tas

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr if you'd like; same username. My ask box is open! 
> 
> And yes, same Tasyfa as in the OG Roswell fandom once upon a time.  
> ~Tas


End file.
